


To Leave the Yiga Clan

by Everilde



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Escape, It was just in my head, The Yiga Clan - Freeform, tbh idk what to tag this at all rn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:13:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everilde/pseuds/Everilde
Summary: There is only one way to leave the Yiga Clan, but is the cost worth the risk?
Comments: 7
Kudos: 3





	To Leave the Yiga Clan

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what to tag this. It was in my head and so I wrote it. Some part of me would love to turn this into a lengthier story that focuses on an OC and Paya, because Paya deserves some love, but for now this is it. If I do decide to continue this, I'll change the title and fix the tags and all of that.

There is only one way to leave the Yiga Clan.

She is five when she first learns of it. At this age, she lingers at the edge of childhood, like the shadow along the curved edge of a Yiga sickle. Just as the blade has a purpose, so does she – so do they all. Her understanding of it is limited, caught between the threads of reality and childish fantasy. Her father thinks she is old enough to learn. Her mother says, “Not yet, not yet!”

In the shadows of their home, she listens to them now.

Their voices are low. They do not know she waits in the darkness, small and silent. She has always been good at moving unseen and unheard; moving like a shadow. Even her breaths are light and faint, as if she fears to breathe. Her mother and father try to be quiet but their whispers hiss like angry snakes and it frightens her. She does not understand what they are saying, until her father growls, more loudly than he should.

“ _There is only ONE way to leave the Yiga Clan!_ ” 

* * *

She is seven when she first understands what it means. By now she has bid farewell to childhood and begun to train. Her fingers are clumsy with a blunted practice blade, but her small feet are swift and quiet. She is still like a shadow, silent and easy to miss.

They say she will make a great assassin one day.

H er father beams in pride  at this … until he watches her lose grip on her blade. 

She is quick to retrieve it beneath the harshness of his frown, but when she looks up again, he is gone.

By the next day, she has tied black  rope around her wrist and the hilt of her practice blade. She will not drop it today. She will not make her father frown. 

That afternoon, as her training nears its end, it is her mother who frowns.

She does not drop her blade and her father grins. He nods in approval, utters something to the small woman at his side, and turns to walk away. Her shoulders relax as her mother approaches and kneels. She has soft and gentle hands, her mother, and they work carefully to unbind the r ope tethering her to the blade. The skin beneath it is red and chafed, but she is too excited at pleasing her father to notice the ache. Her mother rubs her thumb gently over the mark and sighs. 

* * *

That same night, she is woken by her mother.

The woman is dressed in the gear of a foot-soldier, a blade at her hip and a pack at her back. Quietly, she helps her dress and  then pack her few belongings . They say nothing. Together, as silent as shadows, they leave the home. 

She does not understand but she is afraid to speak. The night is dark and quiet, the moon overhead in its New phase, shedding no light over the desert. They are no more than the darkness that cloaks them.

But it is not enough.

They barely reach the end of the  valley before they are surrounded. 

Her mother draws her blade.

There are seven of them, all wearing masks and wielding similar sickles. She does not know who lurks behind each mask and so she cowers, hiding behind her mother's form. Together they are so small, two flies caught in the web. 

“Keep your head down, Rila!” her mother hisses and she obeys.

She bows low, her brow against the dry sand, her hands over her head. Around her there is movement, shuffling feet, the clash of blades. The rush of air from their swift movements teases her hair. Her eyes shut tight and she imagines it is a dance and not a fight, that they are only dancing… only dancing…

And then there is a hand on her, grabbing the strands of her hair, yanking her to her feet. Even with her fear, even with the pain in her head, she stays silent. At seven years old, this part of her training has been embedded deep: an assassin makes no noise.

The curved edge of a sickle is brought to her throat and her eyes shoot open. She can feel the cold steel; her breath catches.

Three of their pursuers are down. One holds onto her. Three more remain ready to fight.

But her mother turns, sees the steel at her throat, and her eyes grow wide in horror, in fear.

She drops her blade. 

“Take the child home,” one of the remaining demands.

He has her father's voice.

“She was forced, this was not her choice.”

The blade is pulled carefully away and sheathed. Strong hands lift her up. Strong legs begin to run, carrying her back toward the hideout.

When she looks back, she sees her mother on her knees.

She never sees her mother again.

* * *

There is only one way to leave the Yiga Clan, and at the age of twenty- five , she decides to risk it. 

By now, she understands. She knows their purpose, she knows her role.  Over the years, she has trained. Among the others, she is one of the swiftest and most silent. The lives she has taken have been quick and clean, and  she  never – ever – drops her blade. 

Her father is proud.

She is favored.

In the shadows of the New Moon, she flees.

This time, she gets farther than her mother. The valley is left behind and the desert looms ahead. She would be quick enough to catch a seal, but that is too risky. The noise would be too loud and her movements too obvious. There is no doubt in her mind that soon she will be hunted – if she isn't already.

Gerudo Town and the Bazaar are too close. She could never blend in with her clothing, not until she finds  more to change into . 

Instead, she goes east. She follows the main road, but at a distance, using the darkness of nightfall to keep her hidden from the slumbering beasts of the desert. In recent months, a tower has risen from the surrounding cliffs, and she uses this as her guide. Its appearance had infuriated their Master, so she assumes it is good.

She knows her way to Central Hyrule. She has been there before, for purposes she chooses not to  think about  now. If she can make it there before the sun rises, then she might be safe… 

But she will never be safe for long. Even now, moving through the desert, doing her best to keep her tracks hidden, she knows they are after her.

There is only one way to leave the Yiga Clan.

And that way is to die. 

**Author's Note:**

> also, I know (spoilers) that what's-his-name was Yiga and left and is very much alive, but I'm going to assume he's a special case given his circumstances. If I do continue this, I'll probably write about that somehow too.


End file.
